“Now when Jesus returned, a crowd welcomed him, for they were all expecting him. Then a man named Jairus, a synagogue leader, came and fell at Jesus’ feet, pleading with him to come to his house because his only daughter, a girl of about twelve, was dying.
As Jesus was on his way, the crowds almost crushed him. And a woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years, but no one could heal her. She came up behind him and touched the edge of his cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped.
‘Who touched me?’ Jesus asked.
When they all denied it, Peter said, ‘Master, the people are crowding and pressing against you.’
But Jesus said, ‘Someone touched me; I know that power has gone out from me.’
Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed. Then he said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.’” Luke 8:40-48
His child was sick. His twelve-year-old little girl, who had only just begun to live, was dying. This father, named Jairus, did what any of us would have done; he ran to Jesus, fell at His feet, and begged Jesus to come to his house. And Jesus went. Oh, the going was slow. Crowds of people were pressing in wanting to see Jesus, but Jesus was coming with him. His need was more pressing. His child was dying. But then Jesus stopped.
NO! NO! NO! Don’t stop! His child was dying. The need for his daughter was too urgent. Please don’t stop!
But Jesus did stop. There was a woman who had been bleeding for twelve long years. She had no life; she died a little more each day. The issue of blood kept her away from her family, from society, from everything, and demanded that she call out to everyone that she was unhealthy, unclean, unfit, untouchable. No one could touch her without becoming unclean themselves, and she could never touch anyone without spreading her filthiness. She knew. The crowds knew. The whole world knew that she was unclean. It was a horrible bereft existence. She had tried doctors, but that had just left her bereft of her finances. But here was Jesus. A touch, a slight touch, who would know? Perhaps she wouldn’t defile Him, just His garment. She would simply graze the fringe of His prayer shawl. Surely no one would know of her audacity. A slight almost imperceptible touch, but instantly she knew. The bleeding stopped.
That tiny touch changed her life forever. She was healed. Perhaps she could slip away unnoticed. But Jesus did notice. He knew she had touched Him. He spoke, “Who touched me?”
NO! NO! NO! She couldn’t admit it. What would the authorities do to her? What would Jesus do to her? She was not allowed to touch. Her touch was forbidden. Jesus spoke again, “Someone touched me, I know that power has gone out from me.” When the woman saw that she could not remain hidden, she came trembling. She fell at Jesus’ feet and explained why she had touched Him and that she had been instantly healed. Fearfully she waited for the rebuke that surely would come. SHE WAS NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH ANYONE! But there was no rebuke, no recriminations, no angry words, just overwhelming love. “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.” “Daughter!” He called her, “Daughter.” He calmed the storm in her life and called her “Daughter”. Too unclean? Too unfit? Too unrighteous? NO! Jesus called her “Daughter.” He healed her.